


see you as a piece of real estate

by seroquel (smallredboy)



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: Consent Issues, Forced Prostitution, Hurt/a little comfort, Multi, Self-Sacrifice, Underage Prostitution
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-14
Updated: 2019-09-14
Packaged: 2020-10-18 15:55:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20641778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smallredboy/pseuds/seroquel
Summary: Finnick makes a deal to save his family.





	see you as a piece of real estate

**Author's Note:**

> for trope-bingo - against all odds, badthingshappenbingo - take me instead, and hc-bingo - sacrifice
> 
> i haven't read THG in forever but i remain emo about finnick. any inaccuracies and lack of care about canon are my own fault.
> 
> enjoy!

President Snow’s office is impeccable, the smell of roses intoxicating the air in a way that makes him a tad nauseous. He still carries the demons from his Hunger Games, how he rose victorious because of the trident he was given. He doesn’t like to think about it, or about what President Snow wants from him.

He settles his gaze on Snow’s lapel, that rose, instead of his face. It’s better that way— less asphyxiating.

“The Capitol wants you,” President Snow says without any preamble.

He’s one of the youngest victors, at fourteen, and he doesn’t want to think about what he means for too long. He recently turned fifteen and yet the Capitol is merciless. He knows what got him so many gifts was his physique, not his talents. He knows that if he wasn’t attractive, he would’ve died in the arena. But that sounds so much better than what President Snow is hinting at right now.

“It wants me,” he repeats, trying to see how the words taste in his mouth. They’re rotten to the bone.

“Yes,” he nods heavily. “And I think you know what I mean by that.”

Finnick shifts on his feet, blood icy with fear. “I do,” he replies. And he’s not stupid, he does know what it means. He knows his body is the thing that thrusted him into the limelight— it wasn’t his abilities or his interview. He knows what they want to do with him. But— “what will happen if I don’t comply?”

President Snow raises his brows, smiles at him in that cruel way that makes his guts turn. “I suppose you enjoy having your family alive, no?”

It’s a non-answer, but it tells him all he needs to know. He shrinks on himself, looks at the floor. 

“Yes,” he says, voice heavy with resignation, “I do.”

President Snow tilts his head and pats the table he’s sitting behind of. There’s uncomfortable silence that seems to last eons and Finnick prays in his head that this isn’t what’s going to happen. That of all things, President Snow isn’t sick enough for this.

But President Snow says, “Let’s go for a test run.”

He knows all his nightmares are coming true as he slowly heads towards the table, lets the older man bend him over.

*******

The man on top of him doesn’t even look human. As much as Finnick has the luck of being from one of the Career Districts, he’s still disturbed by the way the Capitol citizens modify their bodies in grotesque ways.

The man on top of him has his nose modified in such a way that it almost looks like a dog’s snout. The man on top of him is rough, hands on his hips, pushing into him, making himself fit in his body without any mercy or any stop in sight.

When Finnick has stopped zoning out, he’s taking a hit from a cigarette, the smoke leaving his snout. 

“How much will it be?” he asks, grabbing for his wallet.

He thinks about it for a second. He doesn’t want the money— he has enough money with the payment for winning the Games, he doesn’t need it in the least. He wants help, something that will comfort him through the nights where he has nightmares about what the Capitol has done to his developing body.

He’s keeping this a secret from his family. A fake smile whenever he comes back to his home District, hugs that make his skin crawl. He lies through his teeth about how the people in the Capitol are so nice, such big fans of him.

He can deal in secrets.

“I don’t want money,” he says with a tight-lipped smile forcing its way onto his lips. “I want a secret of yours. Any.”

The man gives him a look, but he doesn’t pry on why Finnick Odair wants a secret of his. He still rattles on about something or other that Finnick stores in his mind for months on end afterward, thinking about the man he doesn’t even know the name of and the mess that is his love life.

As long as he gets those secrets, as long as he gets by— no, as long as his family is alive, he can live with it. As long as his sacrifice makes sense, he can live with this.

As long as he’s the one being taken instead of his family, he can deal with it.

*******

Talking to the cameras about what he went through makes him spiral. 

As soon as the cameras are gone, as soon as the people from District 13 are out of his sight, he’s hurrying towards a bathroom, heaving and breathing hard, his head spinning as he tries to keep himself in check. He can’t deal with it— he just can’t fucking deal with it.

The high-ranking people in the Capitol were, perhaps, already aware of what was happening with the young winner of District 4. Perhaps they shared laughs over it, oh, he was so pretty, so perfectly submissive, such a nice piece of meat. Perhaps it wasn’t as much of a secret as he dreamt it was.

But now they know. They know the secrets he was told, they know how it started when he was barely fifteen. You were a child, Katniss has said as he rehearsed and tripped over the words he had written. He was a child.

And Katniss is there when he’s retching into a sink, his head spinning as he clings onto it for dear life.

“Are you okay?” she asks, knowing the answer. She doesn’t wait for it. “Can I touch you?”

He coughs a little. “Yeah,” he chokes out.

“Okay.” She soothes circles into his back, mumbling words of encouragement, of comfort that don’t come naturally to her. He still appreciates the effort.

“I’m sorry,” he breathes out. “Sorry I’m bothering you.”

“No, I get it, Finnick,” she says in that rough-at-the-edges manner of hers. “It’s fine. Just calm down, okay?”

He tries to, sobs still bubbling up his throat. But now that people know, perhaps he’ll get some peace of mind. That’s all he can hope for — that against all odds, he can be happy once again.


End file.
